Seventeen
I wrote this when I was mad--yay vents--but then I turned it into a legit thing because it actually fit. Yes this is actually canon to Cub's Play/Just Kids' Play. This applies heavily to cat Candy HOWEVER I found it easier to express with human Candy, as there are several other and relatable factors with a human. Warning though, this does deal with some tough and somewhat adult themes. As a warning beforehand, this is definitely not for anyone under 15. Candy ran into the room and slammed the door behind her before anyone could stop her. She locked the door, pressed herself against it and screamed. And screamed And screamed. And took off her shoe, the only thing that was easy to throw near her, and still screaming in feverent rage, hurled it across the room. It knocked over a lamp, which fell to the ground and shattered with a satisfying crash. The lights in the room dimmed--only slightly, of course the overhead light was still there, and still screaming, she threw her other shoe, and it collided with the window and just bounced off, but the thud and the curtains scrambling away from it was enough. And she kept screaming. She was destructive and throwing a tantrum and she didn't care. ''She was proud of it. Forget being classy or prim or professional or ''mature. ''All labels--all controlling labels, all accessories to the puppets they were making, a puppet they had her, her strings pulled taught no matter how much she screamed and cried, being pushed painfully into walls and walls and choked as she resisted. No more. Take that! Take the resistance!'' How dare they? How DARE they? How dare they control her? She was sick of it--fed up completely! How much longer did they expect her to take it? Candy winced as people began banging on the door behind her. There was no fear, no swallowing guilt--nothing but anger and drive that had her proudly push back against the door. She would have screamed at them too--but she wanted nothing to do with them at that moment. What did they expect of her? A seventeen year old girl like herself. Screw caring for your health, waste it away! Become engulfed with sex! Become a worldly sex object because that's what they want! Huh, that's it? Become a depressed piece of crap. Hate the world! Kill yourself, why don't you?! All these things, all these messages, said outright or muttered under their breaths, all in codes sugar-coated so it won't sound as horrible as it really is. But the message without a doubt was clear. She's heard these too much...but tonight, tonight, they had the audacity to continue with it, carry on with it, with what a girl her age should do! It's a part of growing up! All a part of growing up--you should do this, that's what they want you to do! Become a horrible slutty depressed and sick minded person! Do it! That's what they want! All while keeping a smile on your face and making other people happy. ''Don't be happy yourself--please the world! Listen to all the world's problems and handle them! What if she didn't WANT to handle them? What if she didn't want to? What if she wasn't ready? Throw yourself on a guy--a guy you hardly even want to know, a guy they pick for you and they control, they control everything. All this. All this at once. A part of growing up, inevitable they say, inevitable because they just placed it in front of her, another mouse in a maze, another "treat" for her to sniff. Inevitable, ha! By golly, why even look forward to growing up? Candy didn't even want to anymore! Why not stay a 5 year old, or be William's age, cuddled up in her mother's arms forever, huh? If any aspirations for anything different, to get older, led to this! This horrible, horrible controlling trap! But it's not just at 17, Candy knew. Growing up. She could ''never be a normal child. She had to stand away from everyone else. Not play with other kids. Serve them. Make them happy. Let another person hold the reins to her life instead of her herself. Heck, she even grew up raising her siblings. She gave up her own childhood so she could take care of them--none of them had a choice in that. Was that not enough? What more did they want from her? She can't choose her own way in life because EVERYTHING's being forced on her? Hot tears burned her cheeks as they streamed down and her throat was raw from screaming. Candy couldn't stand ''it in that wretched meeting room, minutes earlier. That crowded, stuffy room, hoarded with children and overseen by a handful of adults. Those men and women, adults, crowding around to face her and other older Sugar Girls. Talking about what ''should ''and ''can't be done. Duties. "It's your duty." "You are seventeen now." "You can't just fall in love with anyone." "You can't be a child forever." "You should have yourself be presentable." "You should marry before you're 20." "You should be prepared for kids." "You should never lose your temper." "You should never show yourself crying to the people." "You must always make everyone around you happy." "You must think of them first, and not about yourself." "You can't matter as much, you should work to suppress your feelings." Just. Enough! Candy was no one's puppet. She was DONE. She was DONE. She grew UP a puppet and would not stand in her adulthood as one! Her siblings--if her siblings wanted to rebel, if Cupcake wanted to chase a boy she was disallowed, by their standards, to date, if William wanted to learn healthcare with a disabled boy and ignore his duties given by close-minded adults, she'd support them in any and all ways. They were children. The last thing she wanted was for them to grow up into this. As for her...there would be no more. No more downward casts of her eyes. No more hushed speaking until she was required to speak up. No more following around guys she was forced to, and ignoring guys she herself may wish to pursue. FORGET the rules. Was she acting immature? Throwing a big tantrum? Heck yeah she was. According'' their'' standards. But from that moment forth, Candy would no longer live by them. The bangs on the door got even fiercer and more frequent, but Candy just stood up, and faced it. I don't care, she thought. Hope your knuckles get bloody and you pass out from the exertion. She smiled, a sweet, pleasant smile of course, for her own good, and then grabbed a chair from the middle of the room and pushed it against the door. Proud of this, she strolled back across this tiny little room, a long window, water machine, tiny television in front of two chairs identical to the one on the door and a couch. Candy stretched, wiped her eyes and nose her sleeve, proud to get them dirty!, and leisurely collapsed on the couch. Enough was enough. Time to show who held the strings.